


Proof

by Defira



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, F/F, Family Secrets, Female Relationships, First Kiss, First Love, Friendship, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-17
Updated: 2012-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-31 08:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gift for Rsketion over on Tumblr, as part of the Dragon Age Valentine's Day swap. A little story about the early days in Lothering, when young Bethany Hawke sought comfort and advice from Sister Leliana. And perhaps something more than friendship begins to bloom...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rsektion](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Rsektion).



Bethany eased open the heavy door of the Chantry and slid inside, hugging her ragged copy of the Chant to her chest. There was a Templar just inside the door, armour creaking as he turned to see who was entering late. She held her breath, immediate and familiar panic flooding her for a moment before she remembered herself and smiled. To the people and Templars of Lothering she was just Bethany Hawke: Farmer’s Daughter, not Bethany Hawke: Unholy Apostate. 

She wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible, so she smiled brightly until he nodded and looked away, eyes only just visible though the slit in his visor. As always, it took everything she had not to let her shoulders slump, to hold in the noisy sigh of relief that she’d once again gone unobserved. 

The sermon was already in progress, and a few heads turned towards her at the thud of the aged door falling shut. She felt colour rise in her cheeks, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly as she scanned the pews for somewhere to sit. Thankfully, even though the sermon had already started, the Chantry was only half full. Lothering was small, after all, and the outlying farms didn’t always make the trek into town just for the weekly sermon. Especially not in the middle of the harvest, when there was so much to be done- she was lucky that Father had let her come out at all, and unsupervised as well! It was near on a miracle.

She spotted a familiar red head amongst the half empty rows and breathed a sigh of relief. Sister Leliana was always so kind to her, willing to spin her a story or sing her a song, to lend a friendly ear when she was feeling miserable. And thankfully she was seated alone, the pew either side of her blessedly empty. Waiting for a lull in the sermon, she scurried forward, shooting an apologetic look at the Revered Mother as she slid into the row.

But then she lurched, trying not to lose her balance- the entire pew was covered in loose sheets of paper, and Leliana’s head was bent not in prayer, but in fierce concentration as she balanced a book on her lap and scribbled furiously on a fresh sheet of blank parchment.

“Mistress Hawke,” the Revered Mother called from the front of the room, sounding distinctly unimpressed, “if you would be so kind as to take your seat so that the sermon may continue uninterrupted?”

Her stomach lurched unhappily, and her face flamed; stammering an apology, Bethany shoved some of the papers to the side, plonking herself down on the bench. Leliana finally looked up, a smear of ink across her chin, and a delighted smile bloomed over her face. 

“My dear Bethany! Whatever are you-”

“ _Ladies._ ” The Revered Mother was edging close to angry now. “If you _please._ ”

Leliana’s mouth snapped shut as Bethany sunk miserably down in her seat. “I didn’t think I was late,” she whispered, mortified at the stares she could feel burning into her back. She hunched down further in the pew, hoping that simply making herself small would be sufficient to make them lose interest.

The Sister put her hand over hers, smiling sympathetically. “She’s in a mood this morning, pay her no heed,” she whispered softly. She awkwardly juggled the mess on her lap to shift closer- Bethany noticed for the first time that she was using the book as a table for her lap, and that she was armed with a quill and a tiny ink pot. It seemed highly impractical, and the entire affair seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. Ink would not be forgiving to the bright red and gold robes that Leliana was wearing. 

“What are you doing?” she breathed, trying not to draw the attention of the Revered Mother a third time. She picked up one of the loose sheets and ran her eyes over the stained pages. The words were familiar. “Blessed are they who stand before the wicked and the corrupt… Benedictions Four?”

She nodded at her. “I’m practising writing out the Chant from memory, as a part of my responsibilities as Sister,” Leliana whispered in response. “If I’m to lead the Chant myself one day, and lead others in worship, it is important for me to know all the words that Andraste and the prophets that followed her. The Mother has us practise until we can write it in our sleep!”

Bethany giggled at the image, earning her a stern shush from the front of the hall. She ducked her head, mortified, and only blushed further when Leliana took her hand comfortingly, giving her fingers a squeeze. “Don’t mind her,” she whispered, smiling warmly. Those smiles always made Bethany feel a little giddy, because no one looked at her warmly except for her family. And Sister Leliana was so lovely, beautiful on the outside and the inside, and to have her attention so fully and so honestly…

It made her feel wonderful, sometimes. In a way that no one else ever made her feel.

“Let me help you,” Bethany whispered, clamping her mouth shut when the Revered Mother glared over at them again. 

Fighting a giggle, Leliana leaned in closer, close enough to whisper her in ear “How would you help me then? I eagerly await your suggestion.”

Shivering at the kiss of hot air against her cheek- which she was quite certain was bright red all over again- Bethany fumbled for the quill with her free hand and on the piece of parchment on Leliana’s lap, wrote-

_I could proof read it for you._

Leliana glanced down, watching the scratching of the quill, her smile turning wry as she clued in to what the message was. She carefully took the feather, and added underneath in a curving hand-

_Oh? I did not realise I was going to be tested. Whatever would I need a proof-reader for?_

Glancing up, Bethany was relieved to see that the Revered Mother was finally engrossed in her sermon, and was no longer shooting them annoyed glares every few seconds. She took the quill back and wrote-

_Well, if it’s for practise, you need to know that you’re getting it right. You can keep practising, I will find any flaws for you. Unless it would just be annoying?_

She bit her lip, hoping the last line didn’t come off as too needy. Leliana simply smiled again, and took her turn with the quill.

_Not at all, dear heart. Did you want to listen to the sermon, or should we begin now? This is such a dreadfully stodgy lecture today!_

For the next hour, while the Revered Mother droned on and on about the path of the Maker, and the need to guide the poor, unenlightened souls of the unbelievers to His word with all haste, the two of them passed sheets backwards and forwards, Bethany checking the beautifully penned words against the ones in her worn little Chant book. She corrected spelling a few times, grammar a few times more- once Leliana even missed out a whole verse. But she was doing a marvellous job to recall it all from memory, and to anyone watching them, it simply appeared as if the two of them were diligently taking notes down from the Revered Mother’s words. 

Leliana hesitated over the last sheet, the pen hovering over the parchment for a long moment. Bethany waited patiently for her turn, actually listening to the sermon for a few moments. “And it was in Transfigurations that Andraste herself said ‘ _The one who repents, who has faith, unshaken by the darkness of this world, she shall know true peace._ ’ And who are we to deny such peace to our unenlightened brothers and sisters, who have not yet known the joy His words can bring? Let it not be said that-”

The piece of paper was tucked into her hand, and Leliana’s hand lingered over hers for a moment.

_Come back to my room with me. You clearly need to talk to someone._

Bethany stilled, rereading the words several times. She glanced sideways, and Leliana had a concerned look on her face. Reaching over, she added-

_You seem troubled, dear heart. We can go somewhere private and talk. If the idea does not bother you at all?_

Quite the opposite- in fact, the idea filled her with such giddy terror. She’d sat alone with the Sister before- _yes, but always in public, in the main hall, or in the library_ \- but to even think about sitting alone with her, completely, without the threat of someone overhearing what confessions she might whisper to her…

Would Leliana understand if she confessed her great secret to her, the One Truth about herself that her family had stressed time and time again was not to be revealed, _ever?_ Would she call for the Templars, have her dragged away? Would she comfort her, giggle and whisper with her and assure her that her secret was safe?

Bethany didn’t even have the courage to wonder about it, let alone voice it in the first place. It was pointless wasted energy to even dream. 

She took the pen with shaking hands and wrote-

_I’d like that._


	2. Chapter 2

The sermon did not last for a great deal longer, maybe ten minutes, but for Bethany it felt like all the ages of the Golden City. Surely Leliana was just being kind, extending a hand of friendship to a lonely girl. Surely she was reading too much into her offer, because if Leliana suspected anything, she was honour bound by her vows to bring the Templars down upon her. Was this a ruse then, to gain her trust before throwing the net over her head? 

Leliana, for her part, did not seem to notice her discomfort, continuing to set down the Chant from memory on the last few scraps of paper that they had left, her graceful, curving letters blooming on the page as the quill scratched quietly. When she reached the bottom of the page, she slipped it over to Bethany, smiling warmly as she did so.

 _Oh Maker_ ; this was a great deal more difficult than she’d thought it was going to be. 

When the sermon ended, and people began to climb to their feet, Leliana collected up all the loose sheets, tucking them inside the book she’d been leaning on. “Would you be a dear and carry the rest for me?” she asked, gesturing to the odds and ends she’d left behind on the pew. Nodding, Bethany held her tongue as she gathered the ink and the quill and the more glamorous edition of the Chant that the Sister owned, a far sight better than the ragged stack of poorly bound pages that her father had bought for her many years ago on the outskirts of Gwaren. 

With a reassuring smile, Leliana nodded towards the far end of the hall. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk in private, shall we?” 

Such an innocent statement, on the surface, but Bethany felt a shiver run down her spine all the same. She smiled, somewhat weakly she felt, and nodded again. She kept her head bowed, eyes fixed on the red skirts in front of her- although she nearly ran into the back of her when Leliana stopped abruptly.

“You don’t need to follow meekly after me like a serving girl,” she said with a laugh, tugging on her sleeve to bring her even with her. She nodded a greeting to another Templar, and Bethany managed an awkward smile as well- _she felt so transparent, as if everyone could see not only her Great Secret, but also every foolish bumbling thought that went through her head._

Leliana led her into the back halls of the Chantry, where a dozen or so doors held the private quarters of the Sisters and the Templars stationed here. Bethany held her breath as they passed an open doorway that led to what was clearly a makeshift armoury, walls lined with armour and leather and swords and shields. The Templars were a daily part of her life, avoiding them and trying to make it look like she most definitely was not avoiding them, but this was the closest she’d ever willing been. She was in the heart of their domain now.

Maker, what was she _doing?_

Leliana juggled the papers and the books in her arms as she came to a stop in front of a particular door, winking as she grappled with the handle. “Welcome to Chateau Leliana,” she said, nudging open the door with her hip. She stood to the side and gestured for her to go in with a tilt of the head, smiling warmly.

It couldn’t be a trap if she was being so friendly… could it? 

The door clicked closed behind them and Bethany took a deep breath, hugging her Chant book desperately to her chest as she looked around at the sparse furnishings. She could scarce believe she was here at all; it seemed decadent, to be in someone else’s sleeping quarters, the two of them alone and potentially uninterrupted. She was so nervous, her gaze flicking over everything rapidly, cataloguing potential threats, potential escape routes; Father would be furious if he knew she’d willingly agreed to let herself be locked away in the bowels of the Chantry, alone with someone who had every right to believe she was an abomination just by an accident of birth.

Or would he? Father always seemed to know the ways of her heart a step or two before she did- would he just smile and ruffle her hair? Would he sit her down and seriously explain the risks she faced, the dangers the family braved just to see her safe? That thought alone made her shoulders droop- she didn’t need constant reminders of how the gambles her family made daily in order to keep her secret and safe and unobserved. 

It didn’t matter what he’d say, she told herself firmly, for the damage was done. She was here, alone with an older woman that she certainly admired and possibly trusted. It was too late for regrets.

There was a small bed, and a desk with more papers like the ones they had been giggling over during the sermon, and a chest and a small table beside the bed. It was without any sort of embellishments, no colourful quilted blanket on the bed, no brightly bound books on the desk, no sense of home. There was a stout vase on the bedside table, unadorned clay, and the flowers were a little wilted and pale, but at least the room was pleasantly scented. 

Unsure of what to do with herself, Bethany shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as Leliana dropped her armful onto the desk, brushing her skirts back into order. Bethany couldn’t help but notice the small blooms of ink on her fingers, dark against the red of her robe, and she glanced down self-consciously at her own hands. 

“Well then,” Leliana said, apparently unaware of the turmoil swirling through her, “shall we make ourselves comfortable? Here, set those down over here- no need for you to struggle with my mess, after all.” Before she could object and point out that she was _hardly_ struggling with the meagre collection of odds and ends, Leliana had swept forward and scooped them out of her arms. 

“Is this allowed?” Bethany blurted out, lost as to what was expected of her. “I mean, me being here? It’s not… forbidden, or anything?” 

The laugh should have been comforting, but if anything it just made her feel more self-conscious. “My lovely Bethany, there are no rules to suggest that I am banned from taking another aside to provide them with counsel. It is not as if we are up to anything devious behind closed doors, mm?”

For some reason, her words made her heart ache a little, and not out of joy. “Of course not,” she said, offering a half smile. It felt forced, and she wondered if Leliana noticed at all. 

The Sister crossed to the bed and sat down, patting the space next to her. “Now tell me, my dear, what it is that troubles you so? Come sit with me, and we shall talk.”

Bethany hesitated one final time, before sitting gracelessly on the very edge of the bed, very nearly missing it and slipping onto the floor. She kept her balance with difficulty, blushing fiercely as she propelled herself firmly backwards, to avoid repeating the incident. When she glanced sideways at Leliana, she was mortified to see the Sister covering her mouth with a hand, as if trying to stifle a laugh.

She wanted to moan and just bury her head in her hands. 

“Please don’t be anxious, dear heart, I’m not here to interrogate you. Just relax.” Leliana reached over and gently put her hand over hers, the gesture intended to be soothing. Bethany could only stare at her elegant, ink stained fingers, surprised to feel the calluses on her fingertips- surely the life of a Sister did not call for any sort of hard labour that would produce such blemishes? “You’ve seemed a tad anxious these past few weeks, and today you’ve come unsupervised. I’ve never seen you without one or both of your brothers in tow, so I felt I had to ask… is everything alright at home? Your family are treating you well, taking care of you?”

The question took her by surprise, and for a moment Bethany could only blink. When she finally found her voice, it was as if the words were all trying to escape from her at once. “Oh, no, everything at home is fine, absolutely fine, and my family love me, they always have. It’s just that it’s the harvest and it’s rather busy and father needed all the help he could get and really I’m surprised they let me come by myself at all, and there’s nothing to worry about-”

“Take a breath, my dear, before you choke yourself,” Leliana said with an amused smile.

Bethany sucked in a desperately needed breath and ploughed on relentlessly. She’d started now, she wouldn’t let her courage fade again. “But I suppose, if anything was upsetting me at all, I’d be wondering if maybe… maybe you could give me some advice?”

“Of course.”

“What are you supposed to do if you think the Maker doesn’t like you?” she said, coming so close to breaking and adding _because he seems inordinately fond of locking people like me away in shame._ But she didn’t say that, mostly because her father had told her ceaselessly never to be ashamed of who or what she was. It was a hard message to absorb, most days. 

Now it was Leliana’s turn to look shocked. “My dear Bethany, why in the- why would you think such a thing?”

Chewing on her lip, willing herself not to spill the Great Secret, she hedged with “I just… sometimes he is so very displeased- with all of us, not just me- and I don’t think that I’ve really earned his forgiveness. Some of my-” She hesitated and changed tact. “I just don’t think I’m _right_ , if that makes sense. He couldn’t possibly be interested in someone like me.”

“Of course He is,” Leliana chastised softly, squeezing the hand beneath hers, thumbing brushing slowly back and forth over her skin. She wasn’t looking at her though, and it felt like cold iron clamping around her heart despite the kind words. “The Maker is capable of great forgiveness, and He loves all of His children equally. And you are such a sweet, dear girl- there cannot possibly be anything you might have done that would displease _anyone_ , least of all the Maker Himself.”

Hearing her call her a girl made her feel stupidly young, and not at all grown up and mature as she’d like to believe herself to be. 

“I could prove it, you know,” she said desperately, willing Leliana to turn back to her, face her, look her in the eye so that she could see the heartfelt condemnation that was sure to be in her gaze. She was as good as admitting it, after all. “I can prove to you that I’m different. That I’m… I’m… _wrong_. And that I-”

“Dear heart, you must not say things like that,” Leliana said, unhappy frown creasing her brow. She turned half back, her lip pursed as she contemplated her next words. “The Maker accepts all who hear His word, and He loves us all equally.”

“But He doesn’t,” Bethany whispered, “He has no need for someone like me.”

Leliana was silent for a long moment, before sighing. “Let me tell you a story, my dear,” she said softly. “About a girl who found her way into bad company, who did terribly _awful_ things, and had terribly awful things done to her. She placed her trust in the wrong people, and let them lead her down dark paths.”

She turned back to her finally, eyes solemn. Leaning across the bed, she brushed a lock of Bethany’s hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her hand lingered on her cheek, keeping Bethany from ducking her head. “The Maker finds a purpose for even the most broken of tools, and He will find a path for you. You are a remarkable young woman, and your faith is inspiring- the Maker could have no quarrel with you at all.” 

“I have proof, though,” Bethany started, but Leliana cut her off with a finger across her lips.

“Hush,” she said, smiling ruefully. “Sometimes faith requires no proof at all, yes? Proof can be a cumbersome thing- it demands so much, places no trust, and really faith at its purest is nothing but trust. Do not get me wrong, it is never intelligent to walk blindly into things, but in this… I feel nothing but assurance in my heart. I do not believe you have anything to fear, my lovely.”

The words were bittersweet. She wanted to believe them with all her heart, she truly did, but… she had proof that the Maker wasn’t fond of mages. Or at least what she thought was proof. The Circle Towers were hardly a shining endearment of His tolerance towards them. But she had faith, or tried to, and she was near to sixteen without having yet been caught or threatened in any way. Perhaps that was the proof she should be looking at, that the Maker had other plans for her? Of perhaps it was a sign that she needed to trust, even a little?

Her head was a jumble, and she needed fresh air; this wasn’t helping, being in this building and being near to this woman she admired so greatly. “I should probably just go,” she mumbled, pulling away from Leliana’s touch. It confused too much, complicated her thoughts when she needed them to be clear. 

She climbed clumsily to her feet, bumping the small side table with her hip as she did so. The vase teetered precariously, and she only just caught it before it fell. Water sloshed over her hand and onto the table top, and she cringed a little. “Oh, Maker, I didn’t mean to make a mess, I’m so sorry, do you maybe have a towel or a cloth that I can-”

“It’s alright, Bethany,” Leliana said, reaching forward.

“No, it’s not, and I’m sorry, I really am; Maker’s Breath, I’m not normally this clumsy, I swear.” She propped the vase back up on its base and tried to rearrange the flowers that had come loose. “Maker, I’m just hopeless.”

“Take one,” Leliana said warmly, plucking one of the flowers from the vase and approaching her. She reached up and threaded it into her hair, just above her ear; she paused, hands both sides of her face, and then smiled softly. “It looks beautiful on you, you know.”

Startled, Bethany touched a hand to the flower awkwardly. “Oh, well, um… that’s kind of you to say. I’m sure it’s just the flower, rather than me though.”

Leliana smiled gently, her thumb brushing over the curve of her cheek. “Nonsense,” she murmured. And then she did the last thing Bethany would ever have expected her to do.

She leaned in closer and _kissed_ her.

And of course Bethany ruined the moment by squeaking in surprise the moment Leliana’s mouth even brushed against hers, which in turn caused the Sister to laugh immediately and pull back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Bethany babbled, feeling her cheeks absolutely burning. “I just wasn’t expecting-”

“Dear heart, it is fine,” Leliana said, smiling widely. “No offense taken, I assure you. If anything, I was too forward, perhaps.”

“No, no, no! Um…” How did one go about explaining that a kiss was not unwelcome? “I- I didn’t, um, mind it at all?”

_Oh, well done Bethany, word it as a question. And act like she merely asked you about what you thought of the sermon, rather than whether or not you liked being kissed. Oh Maker…_

Leliana laughed softly, running her fingers down the edge of her cheek. “Well, I’ll not push my luck today. Perhaps we’ll leave off where we are for now, and maybe… revisit it some other time?”

Bethany swallowed nervously. “I… I’d like that?”

The Sister pulled away and went to the desk, picking up the smaller version of the Chant. “And you are always welcome to come back and help me with my proof reading,” she said, handing the ragged Chant book back to her. She hesitated at the last second though, her hand still on the cover even as Bethany tried to pull it away. “One moment,” she said softly, taking the book back and instead picking up the grander, leather bound version that she herself used. She held it out to her. 

Bethany’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Oh, no, I- what? No, I couldn’t, it’s yours!”

“I want you to have it,” Leliana said, “and yours is falling apart, after all.”

“But I can make do, it’s fine, it’s just…” She trailed off, finally blurting out the one word that she could through her bewilderment. “ _Why?_ ”

“Consider it proof, of sorts,” Leliana said with a smile. “Of my faith in you- a faith I’m sure the Maker shares with me. And I’m sure that, given time, you’ll come to see that it’s not who you are that matters to those who love you, but it’s what you chose to do with what you have. And what you now have,” she said, pushing the book gently into her hands, “is proof of what you are capable of.”


End file.
